


Frisk Falls.

by ApolloisSilent



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Female Frisk (Undertale), Guilt, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mentioned Chara (Undertale), POV Third Person, Post-Undertale Genocide Route, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Running Away, Sad Frisk (Undertale), Selectively Mute Frisk (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-19 23:55:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16544777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApolloisSilent/pseuds/ApolloisSilent
Summary: It's hard to ignore your sins crawling on you back. Even with the best ending, Frisk can't help but feel the guilt from the Genocide timeline. Sans tries to help.





	Frisk Falls.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Frisks experiences going through the genocide route and then fixing it by doing the pacifist route. It's hinted that the genocide route was Chara's doing, not hers.  
> Honestly, this is just an angsty fic I wrote cause writers block is nasty af. Enjoy!

Dawn is on the horizon. Purple clouds hang from a bruised sky, painting an injured heaven. Frisk doesn’t lift her gaze from the snowy ground beneath her, however pretty the sky is. Through tearful eyes, she moves sluggishly up the mountain.

Guilt crawls up her throat; she shouldn’t be outside, it’s so early. Toriel might be mad. But no matter how guilty she feels about breaking the rules, it doesn’t overpower the sins that crawling on her back. It’s unignorable. A cruel reminder that despite everything she’s done to fix her mistakes, to raise the dead and reset for a better ending; there’s no escaping her sins.

It all started because of a nightmare. Not a nightmare. A memory. It was a haunting reminder of the anguish she caused. Every night has been filled with the same memories of that timeline, ever since leaving the underground, they’ve festered at the back of her mind, only growing bigger. Frisk wonders if anyone has noticed. Noticed how she doesn’t want to go to school anymore, or how she’s up before the sun, or how even the nicest pie isn’t comforting. She can’t look at her own family in the eyes anymore. Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Sans. All she see’s is blood when she looks them in the eyes.

It’s as though her body is on autopilot; it’s doesn’t feel like she’s controlled. Just moving at it’s own will. She knows what it’s like to be controlled, and this isn’t it. Shuffling further up the mountain, her fingers twitch against the bitter cold and her breath escapes in short pants. The further she climbs, the number she feels. It’s all too familiar.

* * *

Toriel didn’t expect to find an empty bed. Small boots missing and bed neatly tidied, a steady panic swirling in the pit of her stomach. She checks every room, gentle voice calling for Frisk, _whatever game you’re playing, it isn’t funny now, child_. Yet, there’s no reply. No other soul within the walls of the home.

Toriel calls Sans first.

“What do you mean? Frisks’ gone?” His voice is like gravel through the phone speaker. Toriel can already hear him shuffling to get up.

“She’s not here! I’m not sure where she has gone!” Toriel says back, holding a hand to her mouth, trying to steady herself.

“Don’t panic, Tori, Pap and I are on our way over now, alright?” San says back, “Call Undyne and Alphys, they can start looking downtown.”

“I will, I will,” Toriel nods to herself.

“We’ll be there soon.”

“Good, please hurry Sans."

* * *

Soon, there’s a whole party of monsters searching for the small child in a striped shirt. All around town, asking every monster and every human if they’ve seen her. Frisk wouldn’t just leave unannounced. It doesn’t make sense.

Well, it doesn’t make sense if you’re blissfully unaware. San noticed it three weeks ago. How Frisk would tremble and panic at the slightest of things. How she had dark bags under her eyes. There was something wrong. And now, Sans is regretting not saying anything sooner.

He’s left the search party, slipping away without anyone noticing. Sans thinks he might know where Frisk is. Maybe. Trudging through thick snow and against the winter winds, he reaches the top of Mount Ebott. Sans isn’t always right, but he’s right about this.

A hunched over figure kneels at the edge of cavern, peering over the edge into the abyss below. Frisk looks small in comparison to the dark pit she is settled next to. Sans doesn’t want to startle her. She’s so close to edge.

“Hey?” Sans tries to speak as gently as he can. But she still flinches. Scrambling to her feet, Frisk stares at him with wide eyes. Neither of them move.

“ _Sorry_ ,” She signs with trembling fingers. Her fingers move slowly, as if they’re almost frozen.

“It’s fine, kiddo,” Sans says, “Whaddya doing up here? It’s so cold I’m getting chilled to the bone in this weather.”

The joke doesn’t make her laugh. Instead, Frisk lowers her eyes as she wraps her arms around herself. She doesn’t reply. She remains standing solemn amongst the snow, San’s doesn’t quite know what to do next. He takes a step forward. But she immediately takes a step back. Beneath her feet, the edge of the cavern crumbles, broken rock falling for miles downwards, towards the underground.

“What are you doing, kid?”

No answer.

“Everyone’s worried about you, Tori is really worried,”

Still, nothing.

“You gotta talk to me, I can’t help you if you just stand there.”

_“I don’t deserve help_.” The movement is so small. Frisk shakes her head and rubs a tear from her cheek.

“That’s some nonsense right there,” Sans tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket, “Whatever you’re thinking, we can sort it out. Let’s head back home and sort it out.”

“ _Can’t_ ” Fingers twitching. Sans can see that she’s crying. Hiccups from quivering lips, hiding her eyes from Sans. There’s no hiding though.

“Please, kid.” Frisk doesn’t move.

Silence swells between them, even with the howl of the wind and the rustling trees, the silence is too much. Sans can only imagine what’s going on inside her head. That kid has through Hell and back and lived to tell the tale. With all the timelines and resents and repetitive deaths, Sans can’t fathom the pain she has felt. It’s a shame he didn’t do more to help her cope.

“Come on, Frisk.” He wants to tell her that everything is okay. Everyone is alive and well and happy because of her. She did everything she could and more. But Sans knows she doesn’t believe that.

He tries to inch closer. Frisk steps back, hands thrown up, telling him not to draw any closer. But it’s too late. The ground beneath her crumbles.

Frisk falls.

And in that moment; all that guilt and willingness to leave the ones she loves is replaced by absolute fear. The pure horror of death without resetting. Never seeing the faces of her family. The sins melt away for that brief moment as she hurdles towards the ruin floor.

Frisk falls.

Except she doesn’t.

She’s held up by a blue force. Floating in the darkness of the pit, Frisk can barely breath. Too familiar. Inches away from the ground, she can see the golden flowers and Ruin walls from the corner of her view. Her eyes are fixated upwards, she can see Sans standing on the edge, hand stretched out in front of him. Fear is plastered on his face.

Steadily, she rises from the depths. Sans moves her away from the edge, setting her down. Frisk should be thankful that the blue force saved her life. But it reminds her too much of the fights. The brutal deaths at his hand. He didn’t know. She shouldn’t hold it against him.

Landing in the snow, Frisk doesn’t have the chance to recognise the cold before she feels arms around her.

“You scared the crap out of me, kid” Frisk doesn’t hug him back, not because she doesn’t want to, but because she can’t bring herself to move. She cries into his shoulder. Sobbing every tear she never shed. Every emotion she tried to hide seems to be fighting its way back to the surface.

Finally, her sobs die down to dull cries. Sniffling and clinging to whatever pride she has left, Frisk glances at Sans. He’s silent, but Frisk knows that his expression holds too much emotion to read. He’s hard to decipher.

“Let’s go home, Kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
